


A Prison of My Own Making

by Nellblazer



Series: The Tarot Challenge [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Asshole Thranduil, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Imprisonment, Knifeplay, Mirkwood, Public Humiliation, Smut, Spy Reader, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Day 1 of the Tarot Challenge is the Hanged Man.Sent to Mirkwood to spy for the king of Rohan, you severely underestimate Thranduil*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Reader
Series: The Tarot Challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211630
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	A Prison of My Own Making

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Incarceration, humiliation, minor knifeplay, smut.  
> Prompt for this piece will appear in bold within the text.
> 
> Welcome to the Tarot Challenge! This is Day 1 and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Nell x

Time feels meaningless when trapped between walls. At first those walls were rough, dark and close but gradually those walls became light, airy and grandiose. A prison is still a prison, however, no matter how fine the lodgings.

I had come to Mirkwood with the intention of gathering information from one of King Thranduil's council members, a vain and easily targeted elf called Lendaer. The King of Rohan had long suspected Mirkwood of driving the evil that spawned in Dol Guldur towards the realms of men on purpose and I was tasked with confirming that theory before a war could be announced.

Lendaer had come through Rohan on a journey to Gondor before and had shown his character to be superficial, avaricious and even lecherous towards the maidens in the hall. I, as an unmarried shieldmaiden, was particularly intriguing to him and I spent half the night avoiding his over affectionate touches and perfumed words. I was not even aware until that moment that elves could take a fancy to humans.

Since I was favoured, my king bid me to get the information by any means necessary, even seduction. I had argued but ultimately if my king bade me, I would obey. I was promised a title and lands for my troubles as well as my choice of lord to marry.

When I had gotten to Mirkwood, it was as an emissary of Rohan. I came with fine pelts turned into luxurious clothing and pedigree horse hair for use in fabrics and upholstery. I was greeted marginally warmer than I expected.

After asking for directions to meet Lendaer, I stood outside chambers that seemed far too opulent for a council member but I knocked all the same.

A tall elf, taller than I had ever seen with a long mane of silver blond hair answered. There was a kindness to the face but the eyes...the eyes were cold, calculating. I was uneasy in front of him, even though he had given me no reason to be so.

“May I help you....lady of Rohan is it? The horse brooch on your dress...” his voice is silken and that put me even more on edge.

“I am looking for Lendaer. He visited the halls of Rohan some three moons past. He did say to call upon him should I be in the Kingdom of Mirkwood.”

“Did he now?” he raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Lendaer is not currently in Mirkwood. Would you step inside?”

I did not want to. Everything within me was screaming to turn and run but I had no weapons at the King's insistence and so I was too vulnerable. I had to accept his hospitality even if I felt in danger from it.

“Might I know your name?” I play for time.

“I am Celephindir, another of the council. Please, this way,” he ushers me in.

Once I am past the threshold, I hear something click behind me and know I am locked in. This was a mistake.

“Won't you sit?” he moves to a table with two sole chairs facing each other.

“Thank you,” I keep up the ruse of politeness.

If I tip my hand that I know I'm in difficulty, I will easily be overpowered. A shieldmaiden I may be but against an elf of a thousand years of experience? I do not stand a chance with sheer brawling.

He moves behind me, hovering and the prickling on the back of my neck starts. I keep waiting for Celephindir to speak, to do _something_ but he just stands behind me and I refuse to look around.

Eventually I feel his hand take a lock of my hair to let it slip through his fingers as he circles to the other seat.

“You are very pleasing for a human,” his grace and posture is impeccable as he crossed one leg over the other and leant back in the high backed, artfully twisted chair. “Lendaer made advances I expect.”

“Uh...”

“Be truthful with me.”

“He did.”

“And were they unwelcome?”

“I did not understand them,” I sidestep the question. “That is why I came to ask before I meet with the king.”

“You do not understand how elves could find humans pleasing? We do but your short lifespan means there is little point getting attached when you will wither so quickly before us. Only fools fall in love with humans.”

“Is Lendaer a fool?”

“Lendaer is a _disgrace_ ,” Celephindir sneers. “Fraternising with anyone that takes his eye. He will not be on the council much longer.”

If Lendaer was not in favour, I would have to change my tactics. This elf had already confessed to finding me comely so perhaps I could gain some good will with him instead.

“I did rather think it was strange behaviour. Will you be the new emissary?”

“It is looking most likely. Why? Hoping to strike up a rapport early?”

“I think it pertinent to know each other.”

Celephindir rises, coming to the side of me and slim fingers turn my face upwards towards his, tipping my head back. His gaze is clouded by something I do not recognise and I wonder if I should be afraid.

“And would you like to know me, lady of Rohan? Shall I teach you the whole of me?”

“I would like that. I would like that very much,” I feign more interest than I felt.

Celephindir bends down until I can feel the wisps of breath from his lips. Despite myself, I am caught in those eyes that promise much but also something darker and I was wilfully letting him take charge.

“The things I could teach you,” he whispers, mouth nearly to mine. “Like how to lie successively for example.”

“What?” the spell is broken as he leans back and the warmth is replaced by ice.

“Do you think I am so base that I would not realise the King of Rohan would send a spy eventually? The realms of men have ever distrusted us.”

“I am no spy,” I stand up.

“ _Liar!_ ” he hisses, silvered hair falling over his shoulders in swathes in his anger. “That is exactly what you are. You saw Lendaer's perversions and thought to capitalise upon them. You were sent here to seduce information and look at what happened, I seduced _you_. If Rohan wants answers, they should not have sent an ill-prepared girl.”

“You may believe what you wish but I have a meeting with the king soon so I shall be on my way,” I remain firm.

“This _was_ your meeting with the king,” his eyes flash triumphantly. “I am not Celephindir, I am Thranduil. These are the royal quarters you are in. You shall come with me.”

He opens the catch on the door before two guards are beckoned in. When they address the ired elf as 'your majesty', I know then I have been tricked. Thranduil had been anticipating my arrival and purposefully intercepted me.

With no other option, I followed him to the throne room, flanked by his guards. All of the council members had gathered to watch and humiliation at my failure was creeping in.

“This human,” Thranduil points to me from on his throne. “Thought she could seduce information on the inner workings of Mirkwood from us.”

The laughter that followed was cutting. I felt it in my soul how deeply shamed I was.

“If only she had been plain and honest from the start,” Thranduil lounges. “She would know then that we are _defending_ the realms of men from the horrors of the North and from the South of Mirkwood also. Somehow men never think to ask, only to lie and deceive.”

I did the only thing I could, I bowed to him, “Forgive me, King Thranduil. I-”

“-Oh I know,” he interrupts. “You were just following orders. I do not hold you accountable.”

My spirits lifted for a moment but ultimately I should've known better. That cruelness I had seen glimpses of in Thranduil's eyes was not something to ignore.

“However....you shall not return to Rohan. You are now our hostage. That is of course depending on whether your King wants you back. Do you think you have any value to him? Hmm? Will he come for you?”

I stay silent, not wanting to verbalise the answer out loud. If the King of Rohan knew I had been captured, he would not risk trying to save me for fear of provoking a dishonourable war.

“Answer me,” Thranduil's voice is calm but sharp.

“No, he will not come for me. So let me pass to a different land to start over,” I try to barter.

“And waste your remaining years of beauty on peasants who would see you haggard and nursing their children? No, no I do not think so, my lady. You shall spend your best years in my dungeons, free from the interference of men but at my beck and call should I wish to look upon you. Remove her from my sight.”

So I came to call his dungeons my first home, where I paced in the tiny room, bored and hungry.

Thranduil would visit weekly at first, then a few times during the week and slowly it became daily. He would offer me luxuries, the promise of some freedoms if I would give up a secret of Rohan but my pride was great and I refused. The more I refused, the more outlandish his offers would become, like it was a matter of great personal amusement to find out what my price was.

“You will die in here if you do not acquiesce soon, my lady,” more honeyed words through my bars.

“Then I shall die here,” I lie back on the bed.

“Do you not miss the taste of fresh bread? The lustre of fine wine? A soft pillow for your head?”

“Of course I miss them!” I lose my temper, bolting up to bang at the bars though the Elvenking is unfazed. “Your ploy is weak, King Thranduil. I shall not be bent this way. So either leave me here or let me go, either from your lands or life.”

“Brave for a woman,” he muses. “Though those in Rohan have always been brave...reckless but brave. You are right, this is not working. You will be moved tomorrow.”

“Moved where?”

He just chuckles to himself before walking away, the swathes of his robe swishing behind him as he ascends the staircase to the main levels again. I am left alone to worry about his vague words and I did not sleep until his guards came to collect me.

*

Now I was confined to a room, a large luxurious bed, a wash space and a small reclining area with books in the Elven tongue that I could not read. Whilst I had more comforts, I did not have freedom still.

When Thranduil came to visit in these new quarters, he would sit across the table from me like he did on our first fateful meeting, delicately sipping from a goblet. He would talk of nothing in particular but seemed to enjoy trying to rile me with veiled insults and provocative statements.

I finally grew bold enough to ask why I was here one day.

“You offer me better accommodation and your company has increased,” I nibble on the food he has brought with him. “Now you visit me two times in a day. Why?”

“Does a king need a reason?”

“Yes.”

“You are very impertinent for a human,” he frowns. “Do you think you have the upper hand here?”

“All I did was refuse your offers and yet you still gave me those luxuries. You still give me your time when I know to be a king is to be forever occupied with problems and issues. I would say you are playing with your hands bared, King Thranduil. You are lonely.”

He rose so quickly that it frightened me and I jumped up, grabbing the knife used to cut slices of bread and readied myself.

“Try,” he snarls at me. “I beg of you, try and see what you bring down upon yourself.”

I was tired of this, tired of this semi-existence and I launched forward, hoping I still held some semblance of finesse at fighting. Thranduil dodged my attack with speed and grace but I twisted on the ball of one foot and pirouetted to slam the knife towards his neck.

He caught my wrist, using it to pull me off balance before caging my arms behind my head, wrenching the knife from my hand and putting it to my own throat, my back to his chest.

“Was it worth it?” he hisses.

“Yes. I am not your pet,” I struggle against him but he uses the blade to bring my head back so he can look into my eyes.

“Oh I rather think you are. You live in my halls, I feed you, I comfort you...and now you have displeased me, I shall punish you, my little bird.”

He bends, lips ghosting over mine with each word, “You think you have felt the depths of humiliation? You have seen nothing yet but you will and when that moment comes, you will _beg_ for this cage that I keep you in.”

I'm flung forward, landing face first on the bed as the Elvenking storms out of the room, slamming the door shut and I hear many locks fall into place. I did not care what he had in store for me, I had suffered enough with being confined for so long with nothing but his visits to keep me occupied.

I should not have been so flippant though.

Female elves came to the door with swathes of fabric and jewels, telling me I was to attend a feast. I tried to protest at being forcibly undressed but they told me Thranduil was just outside the door and he would dress me himself if I kept resisting.

So I let them drape me in flowing fabrics, glittering necklaces and a twisted vine headdress of silver birch. I felt like a doll for the king's amusement as they paraded me out to him and I saw, to my horror, I was dressed in his colours, a matching partner as he turned to me in silver robes with his crown of berries and red leaves.

“If we had much dimmer light, you could almost pass as an elf,” he smirks before taking my arm and dragging me behind him. “You will sit to the right of me and in front. You will not speak unless I speak directly to you.”

When we walked into the feasting hall, my heart froze to see the King and Prince of Rohan amongst those at the table. I knew they recognised me when their heads snapped up and the King's gaze roamed over my attire.

“Friends of Rohan,” Thranduil deposits me in the appointed chair. “I believe you are acquainted with my lover already.”

I think I forgot how to breathe. I just looked at him in disbelief as he sat on his secondary throne and I realised it was the perfect height for him to pet my head if he wished.

“This is an insult!” the Prince bristles in his seat.

“It is insulting for a king as old I as to show an interest in one of your subjects?” Thranduil says innocently enough. “Anyone else would call it a blessing. Do you not wish for closer ties between our people?”

“You have spelled her into this! She would not have chosen this of her own free will!”

“Sit down!” the King bids his son before turning to Thranduil. “This is of her own volition?”

“It is,” the Elvenking lazily strokes my hair and I avoid all eye contact. “By your order in fact, o' great Horse King. She was aiming lower initially with Lendaer but I became quite receptive. You should be proud of your spy.”

“Our...” the King of Rohan pales.

“I wonder if she had some training before you sent her to us? She is so very delicate with her touch, so receptive to it in kind and there are wonderful melodies that she makes for me in the small hours of the night.”

It was lies, all of it lies but he was so convincing, I felt embarrassed just hearing it. I could not take the disgusted stares of my people and I could not take the jeering faces of Thranduil's council and the other elves.

“We will leave,” the King of Rohan stands. “We wish no war without justifiable cause.”

“Then do not give me a justifiable cause to _wage it_ ,” the Elvenking's voice is colder than ice. “But before you leave, kiss me _melethril nîn_.”

Lithe fingers pulled my hair by the root until I was looking up at Thranduil and I had a choice to make. Either I refused him and caused a war or I submitted and forever became an outcast of Rohan.

I chose not to protest as his lips found mine. It was short but it was theatrical enough to get the point across.

“Now,” Thranduil straightens up. “Escort the King back to his glorified stable.”

After they leave, the atmosphere changes. I am no longer the object to be looked at but the source of cruel amusement.

“You did very well, my little bird,” Thranduil's tone is patronising as his fingers continue to trace through my hair. “You appear to have chosen your cage.”

Something within me snapped and I beat his hand away from me, standing on my feet and throwing the wine goblet over him. In an instant his silver robes turned dark, the stain spreading and the ends of his hair becoming red.

I did not wait for a response but I fled to my room unimpeded and closed the door, wrenching the headdress and the jewels off. I wanted any trace of Elven made materials off of me but I had no other clothes to change into. I knew what I had done could guarantee my death but I could not sit and be silent any longer.

The door burst open and Thranduil entered, more terrifying than I had ever seen him. He closed and locked it before advancing upon me as I backed into the wall.

“Have you had your moment of defiance now?” his voice is wavering in its anger.

“And have you had your fill of my humiliation?” I retort.

“Not nearly enough,” his hand goes to my throat. “Do not rage at me when you have chosen your path.”

“I had no choice and you knew that!”

“So make your choice now,” his eyes are aflame. “Stay here or go after your King. I do not have anything to sway your decision here at present.”

“ **I cannot stay here** ,” my heart is rattling against my chest. “ **But I cannot go elsewhere.** You have doomed me beyond this forest with your actions and I am trapped. You act like I have a choice but the reality is that I have none. You are vile and you are cruel.”

“I am a _king_ ,” he leans down, nose to nose with me. “You came into _my_ lands with the intention to deceive _me_ , to snare one of my own council and you think your punishment has been cruel? I have tortured people for less. Your incarceration in my halls has been a mercy, my time I give to you is a mercy, the kiss of a king I have given to you is a mercy even though you do not see it.”

“Tell me what I should do then.”

“You should accept that I am your king now,” his gaze lowers to my mouth. “It is only your own obstinance that keeps you caged.”

“So give in?”

“No, never give in. That is not what I want from you. Just accept my rule. Fight me all you like, I do enjoy that but call me your king. Say it for me.”

“Earn it,” I growl back.

The sneer on Thranduil's face turned to delight as his hand moved from my throat to my wrists and pinned them above my head, his body pressed to mine. His lips were so close to my jaw and I found myself wanting their touch, I found myself wanting any kind of touch.

“You wanted to seduce me? Let me show you how a king will seduce _you_ ,” he murmurs before mouthing down my neck that left tingles across my skin. “And you _will_ call me 'king' before I'm done with you.”

I was at the Elvenking's whims as he played with me, found the spots that were sensitive, that made me gasp. He became impatient, letting me go and peeling my dress away like a long time lover would do, relishing each new inch of skin as it appeared.

When I was bared to him, he pulled me to the table, lying me across it and sitting himself in the chair. I did not know what he was doing at first but when he parted my legs, I understood.

“A king does not bend, you see,” he raises an eyebrow. “A king does not bow but a king will dine on the finest of things.”

The way he took me apart with his tongue was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I had intended to keep silent to spite him but I could not. My hands were gripping the edges of the table and stuttered moans kept passing my lips. I couldn't even help when my hips bucked against him for more and he held my legs in place to stop me so he could continue his relentless teasing.

Swirling, lathing, flicking, suckling.

I felt the stirrings of release within me but before I could reach that peak, he pulled away, tracing the inside of one thigh with his mouth.

“Say the words and I will let you scream for me. Do not say them and I will keep bringing you to this edge. How much willpower do you have, _Meleth nîn?_ ”

I discovered I had very little after the fourth time he retreated.

“Please!” I beg. “Please, my king!”

“Who am I to refuse my subject?” he smirks before returning to his task.

The climax is so strong that my back arches from the table and I half scream under his touch. Anyone passing the room might think he was physically torturing me.

“And now it is time to please your ruler,” he lifts my body like it weighed nothing and sets me down on the bed before stripping his robes away and I see the marbled bare expanse of him.

I also note he does not take his crown off as he moves over me, desire evident as it seeks entrance and in one languid thrust, he slides within me. The groan he makes goes straight to the core of me.

Weeks, perhaps months of barbed words and fighting and I was undone by the sound of the Elvenking's pleasure. He had seduced me truly after all.

When he cants his hips, a slow and torturous rhythm, his hand comes to my jaw and forces me to gaze at him.

“You will watch as your king enjoys you,” he murmurs.

This was more intense, more consuming than any person I had ever been with and I willingly leaned up to kiss him which he accepted with equal hunger. We were intent on drowning in each other and did not care if we ever resurfaced.

Thranduil pushes deep, a staggered moan forced from his lips as he meets his own end and now the fog of lust has lifted, I am worried what will come next. I did not think this far ahead.

He does not move from his position when I expected him to roll away from me.

“You shall have a new cage tomorrow, my little bird,” he brushes errant hair away from my face. “They shall be my own chambers.”

“And what will become of my life?”

“Anything I wish,” he answers with a small kiss to my forehead. “You are mine now, until you fade from old age, you are mine. You were right to call me lonely, _Meleth nîn_ but I am lonely no longer.”

Silence falls as I digest his words before I look him squarely in the eyes.

“Do not expect me to behave.”

“Oh I expect you to misbehave, quite frequently in fact,” he grins. “It is what I love about you after all.”

  
  
  



End file.
